


Jaded Dream

by I_Write_Tragedies_Not_Sins



Series: The Way of Thedas one shots [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, M/M, Tragic Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-11
Packaged: 2018-05-19 01:18:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5950675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Write_Tragedies_Not_Sins/pseuds/I_Write_Tragedies_Not_Sins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leto is a whore, owned by the woman who runs the cleanest brothel in Tevinter.  Dorian Pavus is an Altus mage, a high born man fine taste and plenty of wealth. When he spots Leto one night, he knows exactly what he wants.</p><p>But it isn't what Leto expected. Slowly, as Dorian can't help but return, the two grow closer than they should. But Leto wants one thing: for his sister and mother to be free from this life of slavery. And there's only one way to do this: become the lyrium pet to a powerful magister...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jaded Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Told in brief snippets, a vignette of their time together. Thank you to JayRain, Jenny, who helped me go over this piece and make sure Dorian's lines sounded like, well, something he would actually say. <3
> 
> Connected to the series 'The Forgotten Bard Tales' this would take place prior to Dancing with Shadows and Dirth Fen, but can be read as just a stand alone piece. Dancing With Shadows is the DAII story, in which Fenris only has a cameo, and Dirth Fen is my A/U spin-off tale in which Fenris romances a Dalish mage.

Dorian enters the dimly lit brothel, his crisp mage robes pressed and clean. He looks around the room, a smile twitching his moustache. Mostly women stand around in low cut dresses, breasts fully or partially hanging out. Not his cup of tea, of course, but at least there are more than a few men standing around as well. One in particular catches his eye. An elf, with shaggy black hair and bright green eyes, like sparkling emeralds or some such shit. He steps forward but is stopped when an elven lass presses against him, her pert breasts against his chest.  
  
He peers down at her, eyebrows raised. "Yes, my dear? Can I help you or is this your usual way of approaching prospective customers?"  
  
She blinks up at him, frowning. "I- you just looked lonely, my lord. I am sorry if I've offended by being too forward," she says, dipping her head to the ground. Her hair is an orangish red colour and tumbles down to hide her face.  
  
Well played, he thinks to himself. Clever girl. "Ah, you haven't offended, my dear. You're just a little too womanly for my tastes, if you understand my meaning," he drawls.  
  
She steps back with a sigh. "I see, my apologies," she replies, curtseying and backing away.  
  
Dorian continues toward the elf he has seen earlier, eager to purchase exactly what he desires. "What I wouldn't give for some proper wine," he says, tone hovering on the edge of boredom, glancing over at the man.  
  
The elf turns, giving Dorian a grin, and nods his head. "May I serve you, my lord?" he murmurs and his deep voice sends shivers along Dorian's spine.  
  
He gives the elf a smile that's halfway a smirk. "Ah, of course you may. The very best wine you have, if you please."  
  
The elf grabs a flute glass from behind the counter, his tan skin gleaming the candlelight. Dorian watches as he pours a glass a dark red wine, the aroma sweet and spicy all at once. "For you, my lord. Please, enjoy," he says with a low bow.  
  
Dorian takes a sip, enjoying the way the flavors burst across his tongue and the alcohol numbs his mind. "What is your name?" he asks.  
  
The elf looks surprised for a moment but smiles. "My name is Leto, my lord." His black hair falls in his eyes and Dorian licks his lips.  
  
"Leto. What a fine name, indeed. Leto," he repeats, drawing the word out and enjoying the way it sounds on his tongue.  
  
Leto just smiles at him, and it causes things low in Dorian's stomach to stir. "Would you care to accompany for an evening, Leto?" Dorian asks, leaning toward him.  
  
"You wish is mine to grant, my lord. I'm sure we'll have a pleasant evening together," he replies.  
  
He leans forward, pressing his lips against Dorian's. Dorian closes his eyes, enjoying the way the elf's lips firmly part his own, tongue snaking in to mingle with his. He moans and returns the kiss, fingers tangling in Leto's hair. He pulls back, eyelids fluttering. "My, my you certainly are well-trained," he says.  
  
Something flashes in Leto's eyes but he simply smiles and takes Dorian by the hand, leading him up the winding staircase. "Surely you would like somewhere more... private, my lord?" he asks.

  
  
~*~*~

  
Leto sits on the edge of the bed, brow furrowed. "You want to pay me to... talk?" he asks, confusion cluttering his voice.  
  
Dorian nods. "Yes. Or, more specifically, I need you to listen. I need someone to confide in, someone to vent to who won't shout my secrets to all my fellows. Do you think you can indulge me, Leto, or should I find another more willing for such easy work?" He keeps his tone light, perhaps even a bit snarky, as to not betray his own want.  
  
Leto nods slowly. "Of course, my lord. As you desire," he says. "Is there... anything else you require of me?"  
  
Dorian shakes his head. "No, no. Simple lay there looking ravishing while I talk, stare at me with rapt attention, mutter encouraging words now and then with that delicious voice of yours, and you'll do just fine," he says, waving his hand in the air.  
  
Leto smirks, leaning back on the bed, shirt splayed open. His dark tanned chest gleams in the candlelight. "Like this, my lord?" he purrs and Dorian has a hard time resisting the urge to leap on the bed and nuzzle his chest until the man cries out with pleasure.  
  
"Ah, yes, that will do quite nicely rather. Now, where do I begin? Ah yes, my father..."  
  
  
                                                                                                                                  ~*~*~  
  
  
  
It's cathartic for him, really, the long nights he spends with Leto. He tells him more than he originally intended. He complains about his father, the Imperium, the corruption, the women his father tries to force on him....  
  
Sometimes he reads to the elf, interesting adventure tales and theoretical books on magic both. Leto seems to enjoy that the most, laying on Dorian's chest as he reads aloud. It's comforting for Dorian, too, as reading always is.  
  
Tonight is different, though. His anger at his father makes his blood boil as he paces the room in a tight line. "Fasta vass!" he growls.  
  
Leto frowns, standing up from his usual spot on the bed. "My lord? You seem... more on edge than normal. Is there something I can do?" he asks.  
  
Dorian spins around, hands in the air. "Can you convince my father to screw tradition and accept his only son is gay?" he demands, voice breaking at the end more than he' likes.  
  
Leto shakes his head. "I am but a slave, my lord, bound by your will and the will of other paying customers. My word is nothing."  
  
"Then what good are you?" Dorian bursts out, regretting the words the moment they leave his lips.  
  
The hurt in Leto's eyes is fleeting, quickly covered up by a mask of indifference and obedience. "My apologies for displeasing you, my lord," he says, voice bland.  
  
Dorian sighs "I didn't mean that. Come here," he says, reaching out a hand.  
  
Leto grabs it, his hand warm and solid and soft as silk. "As you desire," he murmurs.  
  
His lips are warm as he kisses Leto, tangling his fingers in the man's long hair. He moans deeply, pulling him flush against his own body. Leto pulls back just a little, eyelids heavy with lust. "Do you desire more than talk tonight, my lord?" he murmurs.  
  
Dorian shivers, nodding his head, and they tumble down together on the firm mattress. "Te volo," he mutters in Tevene. _I want you._

  
~*~*~

  
Leto sits up, reaching for his clothes. Dorian leans up on his elbows, a frown turning his lips down. "Leaving so soon? And here I thought the evening was still young," he says with a dramatic sigh.  
  
Leto smirks over his shoulder. "Are you paying for extra time? The hours you paid for have already been spent," he quips and Dorian is delighted to hear the teasing tone in his voice.  
  
"I guess it was wrong of me to assume you simply enjoyed my charming company," he drawls back. "But, I suppose I can spend some more coin for you."  
  
Leto chuckles, and the sound does funny things to Dorian's libido. "I am most sorry, my lord, but I do have another appointment this evening."  
  
Dorian sits up in bed, frowning hard. "Oh? And who is this man who will be warming your bed so soon after me?" he demands to know, his tone haughty and angry.  
  
Leto raises a brow at him as he shrugs on his shirt. "I shall be pouring the wine for Magister Danarius' guests. I do not believe he requires anything else from tonight," he replies. "Merely a pretty and obedient face to show off to his fellow Magisters. Perhaps your father will even be there."  
  
Dorian scowls, still naked underneath the blanket. "Nothing else tonight?" he asks, voice dangerously low.  
  
"I am a whore and a slave, my lord, did you expect to be my only client? I can't feed my family off of one man's coin, no matter how frequently he visits."  
  
Dorian's expression softens. "Family? I was not aware you had a family. My... apologies, Leto."  
  
Leto shrugs as he puts on his pants. "A sister and a mother is all. Our father died a long time ago," he replies, voice bland as if he was reciting a recipe for mashed oats.  
  
He places a hand on Leto's back, noticing for the first time a light trail of scars that run the course of his back. Whip marks, Dorian recognizes instantly, and he flinches inwardly. He presses a light kiss to the man's shoulder. "Then, perhaps I should buy you and whisk you and your family away from this place. Then, we could spend as many nights as we wish together," he murmurs into the man's hair.  
  
Leto gets up from the bed, movements harsh and jerky. "I do not need to be bought by you," he nearly snarls. His posture stiffens for a moment. "I did not mean to sound so harsh. I- cannot accept your offer, however," he mutters, quickly leaving the room.

 

~*~*~

 

Dorian's hands trace slow, delicate patterns across Leto's skin, delighting in the way the elf shivers under his touch. His tongue snakes out, dipping into the hollow of Leto's throat. He tastes like apples, crisp and clean, mingled with traces of sweat. The air is cool against Dorian's back as he makes his way down Leto's firm body.

Dorian nips at Leto's chest, encircling his nipples with his tongue, until he lets out a soft moan of pleasure. Dorian grins as he trails hot kisses further down his body, hand reaching for a bottle of oil. "Are you ready, amatus?" he mumbles against his skin.

Leto moans again, louder this time, and squirms beneath him. "Yes," is all he says.

 

~*~*~

  
  
Dorian watches Leto sleeping, his dark eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. Tonight he has convinced his lover to stay, listening for once instead of talking. Hesitantly, Leto told him about his sister, Varania. _She's a mage. Not a powerful one, but she is. I- want to free her._ Those had been his words, and Dorian's heart had cracked at the slight note of desperation he'd heard.  
  
He strokes a finger down Leto's face, a tender expression in his eyes. Leto's eyes slowly open, blinking sleeply up at him. He sits up abruptly, a small bit of fear in his expression. "I should not have fallen asleep, my lord. I'm sorry," he says, looking down at the sheets.  
  
Dorian chuckles, kissing his cheek. "You needn't apologize. You do look rather dashing in your sleep, though not as handsome as myself I'm sure," he replies.  
  
Leto looks up, brows furrowed. "You are not angry? You do not plan to punish me?"  
  
Dorian's jaw drops, aghast. "Punish? Why ever would I do such a crass thing? Heaven's no. Unless you consider it a punishment to stay a few hours longer? Then yes! Consider yourself punished!" he says, clapping his hands together.  
  
Leto chuckles, the sound uncertain. "As you desire, my lord," he replies.  
  
"And there's another thing. I think we can dispense with the "my lord" titles when we're alone at least. Try calling me by my name," he says.  
  
Leto licks his lips, eyes darting around as if he's afraid someone will overhear. "As you desire... Dorian."'

  
  
~*~*~

  
  
Dorian paces the room, clenching his fists until his knuckles turn white. "You are a fool!" he explodes, the words ripping themselves from his lips unwittingly.  
  
Leto stares at him, expression carefully blank. "You could join the slaves at House Pavus. Your sister would be become my apprentice, and your mother could have an easy job in the kitchens. Your whole life could be provided for! Is being near me such a terrible thing that you would rather compete and possibly die in this _insane_ competition?"  
  
Leto leans against the wall, licking his lips slowly. "If I win Magister Danarius' competition, I will be more than just a slave. I will be a feared and respected warrior, a guard dog for a high ranking Magister." The pride in his voice is palpable as he stands there, a small frowning on his face.  
  
"Is that all that matters to you? Do I mean nothing?"  
  
"I am... sorry, Dorian. I cannot accept your offer so easily," he replies, stubborn to the last.  
  
Dorian shakes his head. "Perhaps I was wrong to give you leancy to use my name so freely," he says cooly.  
  
Leto's expression grows hard. "Of course, my lord. My deepest apologies, but I have other work to attend to."  
  
"Yes, go chase after your precious Magister like a rabid dog in heat," he sneers as Leto leaves the room.  
  
After he's gone, Dorian collapses to his knees, a single tear rolling down his cheek. "Kaffas," he whispers, hand on his chest.  
  
  
                                                                                                                                  ~*~*~  
  
  
Dorian returns a few times to the brothel, but Leto's never there. He doesn't attend the competition though, doesn't watch his lover fight. The thought of possibly watching him die is too much to bare and he stays far away.  
  
But of course he hears the news, that a black haired elf has won the right to be bound to Danarius for the rest of his natural life. He doesn't go to Danarius' mansion right away, though. Weeks pass by, soon turning into months, before he gathers the courage to go. Will he forgive me, he wonders to himself. He prays for a moment that he will, that Leto and he will somehow find a way to still meet in secret.  
  
"Ah, Master Dorian, correct? What brings you to my home at such an odd hour?" Danarius asks as he enters the main sitting room, long robes billowing behind him.  
  
Dorian smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I came hoping to see if you had any books of advanced magical theory on the Fade?" he lies smoothly.  
  
Danarius nods. "Of course. Here, allow me to share some of my wine with you before we head to my extensive library. Fenris! Come, now," he says, snapping his fingers with the order.  
  
Dorian's mouth falls open as an elf with bright green eyes and snow white hair enters the room. Bright white lyrium markings cover his entire body in a swirling strange pattern, brightly shining through his clothing. He doesn't even glance at Dorian, instead moving swiftly to Danarius' side. "Yes, Master?" he inquires, bowing low.  
  
"You forgot to bring the wine, you fool," he sneers. Leto flinches, and Dorian notices a soft bruise along his jaw. Danarius' hand flies out and strikes Leto across the cheek, hitting the same spot the bruise is already forming. "Filthy dog. What should I do for your insolence, hmmm?" he inquires.  
  
Dorian steps forward, heart in his throat. "Ah, not to interrupt but I'm not feeling particularly thirsty this evening. If we may visit your library, however, I would be most pleased," he says, forcing a smile.  
  
Danarius narrows his eyes but nods. "Of course. If you'll excuse me for a moment?"  
  
After he leaves, Dorian looks at Leto. "Does he hurt you often?" he asks.  
  
Leto looks at him, surprise making his eyes wide. "Only if I deserve it, my lord," he answers.  
  
Dorian scowls, clenching his fists. "You've never deserved that."  
  
Leto frowns, tilting his head a bit. "Do I know you, my lord?" he asks, clearly confused.  
  
Dorian stops short. He... _doesn't remember?_ What form of blood magic did that bastard use on him to make him forget? "No," he replies, shaking his head sadly. "I'm not certain you ever did. Vitae benefaria, amatus."  
  
He whispers the last part, turning to leave. He no longer cares about keeping up the rouse of searching from a book, not when his heart feels as if it is breaking.


End file.
